


Overheard

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Ficlet, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-11
Updated: 2008-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:18:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Harry overhears a conversation.  Smut ensues.  With someslightkink (Really, really slight... Unless you are APPALLED by spanking.  Then it's horribly kinky.)





	Overheard

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes:

(Originally posted on 2/26/2007)

This is a story that I had originally planned to be part of a longer fic. But for various reasons I never got around to "finishing" it. I think it's fine to be read on its own, but I just wanted to clear that up in case anyone was wondering about the ending. Hope you enjoy! :)

 

* * *

  
“Honestly!” Hermione’s voice rang through the darkened corridors. “You—two—are— _prefects_! One would think from the way you’re acting that you’re a couple of first years, with no idea of the proper rules of behavior. This is the _second_ time that I’ve had to talk to you two about this! You’re just lucky that Filch didn’t happen by or...”  
  
Harry grinned under his invisibility cloak as he watched Hermione thoroughly chastise two increasingly red-faced boys whom he recognized as being fifth-years; Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw he believed them to be. He had been sneaking back to the common room after a rather heated snogging session with Hannah Abbott when he stumbled upon the Head Girl in full lecture mode. He had no idea what she was so angry about, but he had to admit that it was rather entertaining to watch her shake an accusing finger at someone other than him and Ron.

“I won’t mention this to the Head Boy,” Hermione continued in that same slightly haughty, reprimanding voice, “but I will definitely be keeping an eye on both of you. And if I _ever_ see this kind of behavior again...” Hermione left her threat unsaid, the flashing of her angry eyes saying more than words ever could. Harry had to hand it to her; she was the only girl he knew who could make boys – even those who towered over her – feel about as small as crups by the time she was done with them. With one final sniff and a toss of her hair, she stalked off up the hallway.

She was probably headed towards the common room, and he wanted to follow her, but the two chastised boys continued to stand in silence, blocking his way. They stared after her until the last sounds of her footsteps had faded away. ‘What are they waiting for?’ Harry thought grumpily, dying to get to the tower and tease Hermione about her rather uncanny McGonagall impression.

When the two boys finally thought that they were out of ear shot, they turned to each other with strangely satisfied smirks on their faces. “That was _so_ worth it,” the Hufflepuff said, with a reverent tone to his voice.

“Bloody right, it was,” answered the Ravenclaw. Harry was puzzled; what could they have been doing that could make up for receiving such a tongue-lashing from Hermione? He thought back to the previous week when she had torn into Dennis Creevy for leaving his ink bottle uncorked on a table, which of course had ended up spilt onto her parchment. The poor boy _still_ looked likely to wet his pants every time Hermione so much as glanced at him.

“You don’t think she’s knows, do you?” the Hufflepuff asked, a little nervousness seeping into his voice. Harry frowned, his natural protectiveness towards Hermione seeping out as he listened in. “After all,” he continued, “she’s scary smart. What if she figures out we’re doing it on purpose?”

The Ravenclaw frowned for a moment before shaking his head. “She doesn’t think that way. It would never cross her mind that anyone _enjoyed_ getting yelled at by her, much less invited it.”

“True,” the Hufflepuff nodded before continuing, “Still, I’m surprised she hasn’t cottoned on. I mean, it’s not like we’re the only ones. I’ve even seen _third_ years break rules right in front of her, hoping to get her worked up.”

The Ravenclaw laughed. “Who can blame them? They may be young, but they’re not blind. Merlin! When she started shaking her finger at us...” he trailed off with a lusty and appreciative groan, his eyes growing slightly glazed.

“I know!” agreed his partner in crime with a wide smirk. “Her chest was all heaving and everything,” he sighed wistfully. “And her voice! When she got all prissy at the end, ‘I’ll be watching you two’,” he imitated Hermione’s stern voice and then waggled his brows. “Good Lord, I thought she was close to spanking us!” he finished in a tone of voice that fully conveyed to Harry that the thought of being spanked by Hermione was in no way an unpleasant one.

The Ravenclaw laughed and they began to walk down the hallway. “That’s the difference between you and me, mate. When she talks like that, it makes _me_ want to spank _her_. Just bend her over and slap that amazing arse of hers as she counts them off in that high-and-mighty voice!”

Harry automatically pressed himself against the wall as the two passed him by, their continued conversation about the delights of being harangued by the Head Girl eventually fading away as they turned the corner.

How long he stood there, leaning against a charmed tapestry of Cecil the Calamitous, he didn’t know. His body was stunned into immobility, and his eyes and mouth felt literally frozen open. He tried to shake off his shock, but was unsuccessful. Those two perverts apparently liked it when Hermione yelled at them. More than liked it, got off on it! Prefects! Perverted Prefects! And it apparently wasn’t just them – according to one of the little tossers, practically the entire male student body was using her temper to jump start their fantasies of her arse!

He knew he should chase down the two little bastards and beat the hell out of them for daring to even think about Hermione in such a way, but it was like he had been stupefied.

Of course, it wasn’t as if he had never heard guys talk about girls before. Living with Seamus and Ron for seven years had provided the boys in their dorm with no shortage of raunchy conversations centered around the various girls of Hogwarts. But very rarely had Hermione’s name ever come up in his presence. And when she was mentioned, it was always with a careful respect that the boys seldom gave to any of the other subjects of their randy discussions. In fact, the only girl talked about less than Hermione was Ginny, for obvious reasons. And her arse – amazing or otherwise – was most certainly never mentioned!

At some point, his body unfroze and he slowly began to walk towards the Fat Lady’s portrait, his mind still a jumbled mess over what he had just overheard. When he entered the seventh year boys’ dorm, Ron smirked, misinterpreting Harry’s glassy expression and flushed cheeks. “Whoa, Harry,” he loudly chortled. “You look like you’ve just been hit by the Knight Bus. Was Hannah that good or that bad?” he asked, getting the attention of the other boys who had been busy looking through a broom catalog.

Harry sat on his bed and shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts. “No... not that... I heard... something...” he rambled on, receiving concerned looks in response. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. After a little more silent deliberation, he decided to tell them – in slightly uncomfortable fits and starts – what he had overheard.

“WHAT!” Ron yelled, immediately jumping up and pacing the dorm. “Who were these little pervy bastards? You point them out to me at breakfast tomorrow and we’ll teach them some manners!”

As Ron continued to detail the pummeling the two unfortunate prefects were to receive, Harry couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortably red Seamus, Dean and Neville appeared to be. “You three knew about this,” he interrupted Ron’s tirade in a quiet but slightly ominous voice.

The three boys looked at each other before Neville finally spoke up. “Well, it’s like this,” he began, in as diplomatic a tone as possible. “We know she’s your best friend and all, so we don’t really want to upset you...”

“UPSET US?” Ron roared, his ears turning practically purple. “You three knew that a bunch of...of... horny nut-job weirdoes... were getting off on Hermione’s rants and didn’t tell us?”

“No!” Seamus hastened to interrupt, throwing his hands up as if to protect himself. “We didn’t, at least I didn’t, know exactly about _that_ ,” he added, Dean and Neville both quickly nodding in agreement. “But,” he hedged as continued, “We all knew that quite a lot of blokes fancy Hermione.” Seamus’ courage seemed to build as he went on, and looked over towards Harry and Ron. “I mean, you two _must_ have noticed that she’s not exactly eleven anymore. She’s Head Girl after all, of course students are going to admire her. She’s smart, she’s pretty, and her _body_!” Seamus continued, apparently warming to the topic. “When she wears Muggle clothes...”

“Anyway!” Dean hastily interrupted, shooting Seamus a furious look. “Hermione’s quite the catch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Terry Boot looking quite so pleased with himself as when Hermione started dating him.”

“As if he needed anymore reason to have a fat head,” Harry muttered under his breath before chancing a glance at Ron. The red head seemed to have calmed down, but still had a frown on his face. Harry turned to the others, who all wore slightly apprehensive expressions. “It’s okay,” he reassured them. “I get it that you might be uncomfortable telling us things like this, but she’s our best friend. We need to know that you’ll tell us if anyone crosses the line.”

“Absolutely,” Neville responded, the others nodding with exhalations of relief. “She’s important to us, too. People know that – it’s probably why they’re careful about what they say around us. And besides, Ginny would kill me if I let people talk about Hermione like that,” he concluded, and both Harry and Ron had to agree to that sentiment.

When Harry finally settled down to sleep, he tried to push the earlier conversations from his mind, but was unsuccessful. Everything Seamus had said was true, and on some level he had known that Hermione had turned into a pretty young woman who looked fantastic in a pair of jeans. But he had somehow managed to ignore that realization. After all, he hardly wanted to turn into the hormonal lunatic Ron had become during their fourth and fifth years wherever Hermione was concerned. He gave a deep sigh as he finally fell into a fitful sleep.

 

_He was at the Gryffindor table, kissing a soft, blond, anonymous girl as people cheered him on. “Harry! What do you think you’re doing?” Hermione’s voice cut through the catcalls and raucous laughter. She strode huffily to where he was sitting and began to thoroughly berate him for making a scene in front of all the younger students. But when Harry looked around, they were suddenly quite alone._

Hermione poked a finger against his chest, her eyes aflame as she scolded him. “You know better than to be kissing in the Great Hall! And with a tart like her! You’re lucky I can’t give you a detention!”

Harry grabbed her wrist to stop her jabbing finger. “I’d like to see you try,” he growled, smirking at the astonished expression that entered her eyes. “Do you really think that you could punish me?” he asked, not releasing her wrist from his grasp.

“What do you... Harry, let go... I’m Head Girl!” Hermione choked out, her face red and flustered.

“Well, well,” Harry murmured, grabbing her other wrist. “Looks like perfect little Miss Granger is having trouble getting her point across.” He pulled at her wrists until she was standing between his knees; he chuckled at how she took advantage of his seated position to look down her nose at him.

“Honestly, Harry! What’s come over you?” she asked, though her voice was more nervous than confident. “You really need a little discipline!”

“Maybe I do,” he agreed in a low, and uncharacteristically heated, voice, “but I’m not the only one. You’re in need of a little discipline yourself. You’ve become entirely too full of yourself.”

And with that, he suddenly pulled at her wrists and hauled her across his lap, his hands keeping her back and thighs in place, forcing her squirming arse in front of his heated gaze.

“Harry James Potter!” she screamed. “Let me up this instant!”

“Not until you’ve learned your lesson,” he muttered, flipping up her uniform skirt to expose her firm bottom to his eyes. His mouth watered and he grew instantly hard as he ran his hand over the silky fabric of her tiny knickers, and he groaned as he felt her writhe even harder against his lap.

“Harry!” Hermione called out again, but this time it emerged more like a moan than a shriek, and she began to rub her thighs together.

Harry caressed her firm cheeks once more before raising his hand and giving her a firm swat, causing her to yelp. “Apologize,” he ordered, running his hand down her smooth thighs, grinning as he felt her shiver.

“For what?” she asked, a little anger making its way into her trembling voice. He slapped her bottom again, and let his fingers run down the cleft of her arse until he reached her warm lips, groaning to find the aroused wetness that had begun to pool there.

He brought his hand down again, three more times in quick succession. “For yelling at me in front of all our friends.” Smack. “For poking that finger at me like I was some child.” Smack. “And for parading this arse of yours in front of me for years and not letting me touch it.” Smack.

“That’s ridiculous!” she spat out, but the haughty tone she attempted was completely ruined by her uncontrollable moaning and the way she was rubbing herself against his lap, causing his erection to grow even harder.

Harry laughed, deep and low. “What’s ridiculous is that you’re acting like you don’t love this,” he replied, giving her one more firm slap before he spelled her knickers off and ran his hand over the reddened cheeks. Hermione’s head was lolling around her neck as she wantonly raised her arse even higher in invitation to him. He smiled as he ran his palm over her silky heated flesh before letting his fingers dip down, exploring her wet pussy with teasing touches. Hermione hissed in pleasure as she pushed her hips into his hand. “Tsk, tsk,” he muttered as he slapped her arse again. “This is supposed to be a punishment.”

“It is, it is!” she screamed. “Oh God, Harry!”

“I love hearing you scream my name,” he muttered, “so you better get used to this.” He pushed her thighs further apart, and when he brought his hand down again, it was over her glistening pussy. She screamed his name again and he left his hand there, feeling her juices and rubbing his fingers against her sensitive clit. She was babbling and moaning incoherently, begging him to end her punishment.

He was so hard that the slightest movement she made against him threatened to set off an explosive climax. “I’ll stop if you’ve learned your lesson,” he told her, his own voice as rough and hoarse with lust as hers was. “Have you learned your lesson? Will you be a good girl, now?” he asked as he thrust a finger inside of her.

She let out a long moan. “Yes, Harry! Please, finish this! I can’t take it anymore!”

He grinned and suddenly pulled her up so that she was straddling his lap. Her face was flushed and her breaths were coming in deep gasps. She grabbed his shoulders and he could feel her hot wetness as she began to grind against his erection, causing him to let out a series of long moans. With a hiss, he grasped the back of her head, burying his fingers in her wild hair. He stared into her lust-filled eyes and was just about to bring his mouth onto hers when she suddenly shouted into his ear, “Get out of bed, sleepyhead!”

 

“What the hell?” he asked, blinking as the message repeated. “Get out of bed, sleepyhead! Get out of bed, sleepyhead!” Still in a daze, Harry finally shut off the alarm next to his bed before bringing his hands to his eyes, groaning against the sunlight streaming into the room. He had never awoken from a dream more confused or more turned on. In fact, he was embarrassed to find that the evidence of his arousal was still in full force.

“So, Harry,” Seamus’ voice called across the room, the hint of suppressed laughter obvious even in Harry’s groggy state. “That must’ve been one hell of a dream. I haven’t heard moaning like that since I walked past Myrtle’s bathroom last month.”

There was a moment of silence before laughter exploded in the room, even Neville was gasping for breath. “Very funny,” Harry snorted before storming into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

 

The End.


End file.
